life is a masquerade
by strewberrylemonade
Summary: Marinette Dupain-Cheng may never mean more than a maid, and Adrien Agreste lives a life of expectations and privilege. Their paths collide, even though they couldn't have begun further apart. And then there are the enigmatic kwamis, who are the only ones capable of turning things around. DISCONTINUED.
1. Chapter 1

Our story begins with a girl, and a boy. They live opposite lives, except for one thing - they yearn for something more.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is only the Bourgeois' maid, orphaned and stuck with a mere attic to call home. But as long as the ones on the streets can smile, even for a moment, so will she.

Adrien Agreste is none other than the heir to the throne of France, and he hates it. He never has money problems, never anything like that. But he would take a loving family over money any day, and he'd do it gladly.

 **-oOo-**

A longing sigh escapes Marinette's lips as she gazes down upon the crowds below her.

"AND THE LET THE FESTIVITIES ... BEGIN!" Duke Bourgeois shouts, snipping a scarlet ribbon open. Oh, that would look lovely as a sash on a maroon dress, elaborately decorated at the bodice with lace and -

The thought's stupid anyway.

Paris holds a festival that lasts for a week every five years, so the streets are filled with fun and excitement for the week, until the Friday, when they hold a ball with a different theme each time at the real life palace! Saturday is the last day of the festival and Sunday is tidy-up day.

"Marinette!" an annoying voice whines. "Help me buy my dress for the ball!"

"I'm coming, Chloe," she sighs, untying her apron and staring in disdain at her limp, blue dress with no style or taste whatsoever. Sadly, she swings the window shut.

"And wear something apropriate!" she squawks.

Marinette huffs. A little difficult when you own a grand total of two outfits.

"Oops, no - you can't!" she giggles at that, seemingly pleased with herself. "Just wear your usual!"

Tears prick at the back of her eyes, but she clenches her jaw. If only they bought her supplies, she could have two wardrobes full of outfits. She trots down the stairs, eyes determinedly fixed on her toes.

"Well? Come on!" Chloe demands as she pushes open the door.

Chloe Bourgeois is undeniably pretty, with her long, well looked after, blonde hair and sky blue eyes. In the blunette's opinion, she thinks that Chloe might look a little nicer without all the makeup, and she certainly thinks a natural brown eyeshadow would suit the blonde more than the same blue as her eyes. The blue clashes.

The breath is sucked out of Marinette in the instant Chloe opens the door. She knows the festivals are amazing, but this is ... so painfully out of her league.

Colours explode around her, blossoming and bold. Laughter and chatter fills her ears until that's all she can hear, happy and _real_ , _real_ laughter for once. And the smells - oh, they remind her of her parents' little bakery on the other side of town, when it was still running as the best bakery in Paris.

"Come _on_!" Chloe urges her, grabbing her wrist and yanking her into a fancy clothing shop.

This shop is definitely to Chloe's style, filled with dresses that could probably swallow an entire room with frills and flounces.

She rummages through them all, and after a good two hours, settles on one design that a designer had put together.

"Marinette, you will wait here and as soon as it's done, bring it back!" Chloe orders, turning around with a neat swish of her dress.

She stutters pointlessly, because the other girl is already gone. "Great," she murmurs.

"It's okay," someone lies a hand over her shoulder, and speaks with a soft, feminine voice. "Almost all of our workers are on Miss Bourgeois' dress."

The girl has blonde hair with streaks of blue, green and pink.

"Woah, Mylene?" Marinette asks, the face becoming familiar.

"Hi, Marinette," Mylene smiles back. "How're you?"

"I - I haven't seen you since we were kids!" she exclaims, pulling her into a hug.

"Yeah, I know. Are you still in contact with Alya?" she asks back.

"We meet when possible, me working for the Bourgeoises and all," Marinette says grimly.

"Oh ... yeah. Right. Not the best living situation," Mylene agrees. "Well, me and some of our other old friends are meeting up at the festival tomorrow - me, Juleka, Rose, probably Alya, and we're convincing Alix."

Marinette looks down. "Uh, I'll see."

Mylene nods understandingly. "Well, would you like a tour?"

She smiles.

Eventually, they come across one dress that's modest and simple: a pretty little flowery sundress that drops at the back and exposes a V-shape down from the shoulders to midway down the back.

It's white, with blue flowers, and falls to just above the knee, with a tiny poof at the skirt.

"Aw, it's so pretty!" Marinette coos, smiling. "I couldn't have designed it better myself!"

Mylene narrows her golden eyes a little. "Hmm? Keep it."

"W - what?" she stutters. "No, I couldn't do that! I can't afford it."

She shrugs. "I can. My dad just had a pretty big show, we're doing quite well at the moment."

Marinette shakes her head. "No, no, I will not allow you to pay for this for me."

The other girl ponders over this. "Okay. Well ... " She moves over to the till, hands in her money, and then passes the dress to Marinette. "Happy birthday. For the last four."

"You mean it?" she asks, eyes widening.

"Yes."

The blue haired girl tackles Mylene in a hug, grinning. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"It's not a problem!" she smiles, very happy she's able to do this for her friend.

"Excuse me?" a snooty voice interrupts. "You are here to pick up Madmoiselle Bourgeois' dress, yes?"

The owner of the voice is a tall and slim woman, with bony arms and high, prominent cheekbones. Framing her pointy face is a mop of eccentric purple hair, swishing in about five different directions. Regretfully, she doesn't pull it off. Although, it's not like many others would be quite brave enough to try, so Marinette gives her that much.

"Yes, Ms Mendeleiev," Mylene answers, gently pushing the blunette forwards.

Mendeleiev shoves a large cream box, trimmed with gold, into her arms. She turns on her heels and struts out.

"Well, Mylene, it was great to see you," says Marinette, folding the sundress and putting it inside the box. "I'll see you at the festival!"

The shorter girl grins. "Yeah, you will."

Marinette then turns and opens the door, to be met with a blast of noises and aromas. Sighing contently, she makes her way down the cobbled paving.

From around the corner, a horse comes galloping, a pearly white carriage attached to it. A fanfare explodes from it as the horse whinnies and halts at the fountain.

Marinette gasps. This is the royal carriage, which means there's royalty on board. Frantically, she scrapes her hair back and straightens her posture, aware of the crowd gathering nearby. She should be getting back, but this is a once every five years experience.

She stays.

"Hello, all!" a woman with black hair (and a streak of red at the fringe) calls as she climbs up onto the edge of the fountain.

Everyone cheers back.

"We'd just like to give a huge welcome to the festival, and also, an announcement!" she says, not shouting, but projecting her voice so that everyone can hear.

Someone whoops.

"The ball at the palace will be masquerade themed!" the woman shouts, and then suddenly everyone is cheering. She strains to be heard above the noise. "Spread the word!"

Marinette is shoved back, and sent toppling to the ground, thanks to the jostling people, way too excited to get their masks. She couldn't put her hands down because of the box, so she ended up sprawled over the road, the box squashed underneath her.

"Oh my god!" someone calls, squatting down in front of her.

Her hand flies to her mouth. That's - that's the prince! Shock overcomes her, and her jaw drops. It's only when he holds out his hand does she reawaken.

She hadn't actually realised before how good looking he was. He has messy blonde locks, that look absolutely untameable. They frame a perfect face, tanned and golden, but what really catches her attention are his eyes. Vivid green, almost other-worldly so, with long, dark lashes. Her breath catches.

"I - uh, I'm sorry so! I mean, so sorry!" she pants, cringing as her sweaty hand makes contact with his.

"No, don't worry, you were pushed," he shakes his head, pulling her to her feet.

She giggles awkwardly, and brushes herself off. "Yeah ... " she squeaks, suddenly aware of how many people are listening.

"Right, well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Miss ... " he trails off, smiling gently.

"Um, Marinette! I'm Marinette!" she stutters, her words coming a lot less easy than usual as they fall clumsily out of her mouth.

"Pleasure to meet you, Marinette," he says, dipping his head. She has to make a conscious effort to close her mouth, utterly taken aback at the gesture of respect.

"Erm, and you, Your Highness," she murmurs, sweeping into a curtsey, and practically running for it.

Chloe is going to kill her, but on the bright side, she could die knowing she'd just met the prince and _he said her name_. And she hadn't even gone to the ball yet ... Nope! She knows she'll find a way to go, to dance with the prince! She'll find a way, she just needs a dress, a mask, and many other things she has no idea how to get her hands on.

Bursting through the front door, she wheezes for air and cries out, "Chloe! Miss! I've got it!" With fumbling hands, she takes out her sundress and hides it under her skirt.

"Bring it up!" Chloe caterwauls and Marinette winces at the sound.

She climbs up the stairs and knocks on Chloe's door. The door is flung open, and the box snatched out of Marinette's arms, then with a slam, the door is in her face.

Exhaling shakily, she clambers up into the attic, throwing up the sundress as she does so. She flops down onto her bed and flinches as it gives a loud creak. She pulls a plank of wood back into place.

Her window is shut, and it's clammy and sticky and gross, so she opens it, relishing in the wind's breath on her face. Crowds are cheering at something or another, and yet she is stuck inside her room, exhausted and upset. She notices a little boy grabbing a loaf of bed and then making a run for it, dodging everyone and successfully making it out.

He reminds her of the good days - when she and her parents all lived together, just above the bakery, with full bellies when they went to sleep. They always had a couple of little children smuggling sweets out, but usually, they were poor and trying to feed themselves, and if they even had one, their families. Marinette always gave those ones an extra loaf of bread.

But now she is the one who everyone pities, working for the Bougeois household, and of all households in the country, they have the worst reputation. She hates being pitied, though. At least attempting to understand her situation with Chloe is a lot nicer, but _pitied_? It always gives her a horrible feeling in her stomach when she thinks about it. So she doesn't.

Slumping down onto her chair by the slab of wood she calls a desk, she takes out a burnt stick and begins to draw. Her stick twirls around the page in long, elegant lines, and she occasionally pauses to smudge something in.

Eventually, her work is done. A lovely dress design is before her, with scarlet lace sleeves, a satin bodice that drops from the shoulders to the small of the back, a skirt that made from the same material with just a little poof. The dress is rather simple, not very eye-catching like Chloe's, but modest and charming. When she danced, it would flare out a little, whereas Chloe's (that poofed out about a metre in every direction with frills and ribbon and glitter) would pretty much swallow her partner.

Next, she needs a mask. It could match her dress, she thinks, so she's about to start sketching when she realises that her candle is flickering. Almost out. With a glance outside, it occurs to her that she must've been sketching for three - ish hours, because it's dark out. Her eyelids begin to droop.

Soon enough, she's staring at the ceiling, brain refusing to think about anything but the festival. She can still hear the chatter bubbling from the streets. They must be having so much fun, she decides, and brightens a bit when she realises that she's going tomorrow. She just has to figure out how, is all.

 **-oOo-**

When she wakes up the following day, it's because Chloe was screeching. What else would it be?

"MARINETTE!" she howls. "WAKE UP!"

So, the blunette does just that. It's practise, really. She never used to be able to wake up on time. Ever. But, after a good year of Chloe as her alarm clock, Marinette is a lot better at waking up. Still not a morning person, though.

She hurries down the stairs, making a conscious effort not to trip on her skirts on the stairs. While skidding her way down could be quicker (as her lazy and sleep deprived mind tells her), it would hurt and be extremely humiliating.

Chloe greets her coldly. "I'm going to the festival, but I need you to do your chores at home."

Marinette nods quickly. "Yes, Miss."

"I'll be meeting Sabrina," she informs her. "You are ... " she makes a noise that is half groan and half sigh, " ... allowed to go to the festival after you feed the animals and do the dishes."

This elicits a gasp from Marinette. "Chloe ... thank you!"

Chloe harrumphs. "Yes, I'm amazing. Now, go!"

She nods in response and scoots, immediately making her way to the kitchen and working faster than she'd thought possible. After about fifteen minutes, the mountain of dishes are done. Next, the animals.

She only needs to feed the horses, the dog, and the barn cats. That's fine by her.

When she opens the barn door, it strikes her how much she loves this barn. No one but her really goes in, so it's sort of a safe place for her. Over in one corner, is the stables that can really hold three horses, but is only home to one. Across the other side are hay stacks, piled all the way to the roof, which is pretty high up. The rest of the space is just concrete, strewn with hay, and -

"Good morning, Winston!" she coos as the Australian Collie bounds up to her, licking her face. "Eugh, gerrof, you great lump!"

He bounces around a bit, jumping on her as she kneels down to hug him.

She's known Winston all his life, when she got him as a puppy. His mother died when hers had, she was wandering around town when she noticed a box. Being the type of person she was, she went to have a look.

Unfortunately, she had competition. An older man wanted a working dog, wanted the cheap option, but, basically she grabbed the puppy and pegged it.

She loves Winston a lot. He reminds her of home, with his sloppy and gross kisses all over her face, his speckled face and adorable, huge hazel eyes.

He follows her to the horse, Rusty.

"Good morning, Rusty!" she calls as the beautiful red American Quarter nickers affectionately.

She takes his muzzle in her hands and kisses his nose. He chuffs, and bumps his nose against her face.

"Hungry, huh?" she chuckles and grabs his hay, Winston at her feet.

She loves Rusty, too. He was Chloe's mother's racing horse, but when she left, he retired way too early. Sometimes, Marinette rides him around the track. She's gotten pretty good at it, but sometimes she struggles with the water jump. She can go pretty fast, though, can make quite high jumps, and this is all in her maid's dress.

Rusty eats his hay fast, and Marinette leaves him to it.

She quickly retrieves a couple of saucers of milk, and lays them down in the middle of the barn. "Hetty, Barney, Mimi!"

A brown tabby and white cat comes over first, his long fur shaking over the top of his muscles. Purring, he winds himself around Marinette's legs and she happily scoops him up.

"Hello, Barney!" she giggles as he butts his nose against her cheek. He purrs louder.

Barney is the affectionate cat, who is friendly and happy and loves attention. Marinette is happy to give it to him. She knows she's his favourite, anyway.

And then comes Mimi, the sly black cat, who dashes over, and immediately starts lapping up the milk. Her lithe form is crouched by a saucer, and Matinette sits down next to her.

Finally, comes timid Hetty. She's a white Maine Coon, with huge green eyes and is absolutely gorgeous. Barney greets her with a purr and a nudge with his nose on her cheek. Mimi meows at her and happily swipes her around the head. Judging by the reactions of the other cats, Hetty hasn't been out for a while.

After they finish drinking, they thank Marinette with headbutts against her leg, affectionate meows, and Barney jumping into her arms. She carefully puts him down, and laughs when Mimi jumps straight up. Chuckling, she places her down, but scoops up Hetty.

"Now, you be a good girl," she murmurs into the cat's long, white fur. "The others are here to help you."

Because of the closeness between Hetty and herself, Marinette thought the cat in question would be growling away, and isn't shocked when a low rumble escapes Hetty. But with a jolt, she realises she's actually purring. Smiling, the blunette places her down, and takes a few steps back.

She trips on Winston's sleeping form, arms flailing, and manages to fall on her butt behind him.

Rusty makes a whinnying sound suspiciously like laughing.

"Don't you laugh at me!" she giggles, and then leaves, quietly closing the doors behind her.

Hitching her skirts, she makes a break for it, wind in her hair, and all she can see it lush green and a huge house. As much as she hates to admit it, the Bourgeoises do have some sense of style.

"Monsieur!" she greets the duke breathlessly as he steps outside. "Madmoiselle Chloe said that once I did the dishes and fed the animals, I could go to the festival!"

He nods slowly. "Alright. Have fun."

She doesn't mind the duke. He's a nice enough man - polite and respectful, but he's an absolute pushover.

After running up the stairs in record time, she throws on the sundress, grabs her purse, and sneaks out the front door, beaming all the while. Her skirt swishes easily around her legs, which hadn't happened in a while, courtesy of her rag-dresses.

She's searching the festival for Mylene and the others, her heart racing.

"Rah!" someone grabs her shoulders.

She whirls around and is about to smack them with her purse when she realises it's Alya. "Alya! I haven't seen you in ages!"

"Yeah, I know. Figures, what with the working for the Bourgeois Brat deal," Alya nods.

Alya's Marinette's best friend, and has been since they were thirteen. They met through their parents; Alya's mother was looking for someone who could bake, and someone recommended the best bakers in Paris. (Smart thinking, right?)

Marinette grimaces and hums an agreement.

"Anyways, girlie, how's life treating you?" she changes the subject slightly, wrapping an arm around Marinette's shoulders.

"Eh, I'm doing alright," she shrugs in response. "My designing is getting better, I guess, I just need more resources."

Alya nods. "Yeah, I get it. I think I heard of a tailors shop down a few roads from here, quite small, but I got a couple of dresses from there - it's quite a sweet little place."

The blunette smiles. "I'll be sure to check it out." She shoulder bumps her best friend. "So, how about you?"

In response, the other girl says, "I still have to babysit my sisters?" she laughs. "No, so, my older sister has moved out, she's a guard at the palace now! My mother is still at the Bourgeois Hotel, and you know my dad couldn't leave the zoo if he tried."

Marinette snorts at that. "Yeah. Where're we meeting the others?"

"Down there, in the cafe with the outside tables."

Nodding slowly in reply, a smirk grows on her face. "RACE YOU!"

Alya gasps a little because she wasn't expecting that; Marinette definitely didn't use to be the type to go rampaging down the streets, but she supposes that all the time being cooped up with Chloe had her yearn freedom a little more.

Marinette herself is thundering past the stands and stalls, a breathless smile on her face as she swerves into the cafe. It's been a while since she's done that. Alya catches up to her.

"Girl, that was an ... interesting way to let loose," chuckles the brunette.

The witty response fired back is, "I guess so. Heh. Um."

Alya can only laugh. Nope, Marinette is still the same brilliant Marinette.

"Hey, guys!" Mylene calls, and they both whip around to look at her. "Come, sit!"

They do just that. At the table is Rose and Juleka, and Marinette's comforted with the fact that they haven't changed since all the kids used to meet up at the city's prettiest park.

"Hey, Marinette, Alya!" Rose smiles, her wide blue eyes as innocent as they were ten years ago, and her blonde hair just as short. Maybe a little messier.

"Nice to see you," Juleka adds, in her soft voice that is reassuring to hear, Marinette thinks.

"And you!" Alya grins, and Marinette smiles warmly back.

The door swings open, and a girl with pink hair comes skating in.

"Alix!" Rose exclaims. "You came!"

"Rad," says Juleka.

"Yeah, Kim postponed the race last minute, the absolute arse," Alix shrugs. "I had nothing else to do, so I figured I might as well show."

"I haven't seen you in forever!" Marinette beams at Alix, who half smiles back.

They successfully make it through their reunions, which was satisfying for them all, Marinette assumed, seeing as Alix looked ready to pass out after ten minutes of getting back up to speed and even Alya looked bored.

"So, it's a masquerade ball," Marinette says, twisting her spaghetti around her fork.

"Is it?" Rose squeaks. "Oh, no! I was told it was Under The Sea!"

Everyone giggles at that.

"Who's going?" Alya inquires, eating away at her pizza. "I am."

"I am," Mylene says.

"I am," Juleka says.

"I am," Rose says. "Even if it's not Under The Sea."

"I might," Alix shrugs. "And that's coming from me."

Marinette stares at her meal. "I'll see what I can do. I have a dress design but I don't even know where to get fabrics. And that's if I can even go."

"Tailors shop down the road. Monsieur Chastains. You should check it out. The manager's a really nice guy," Alix advises, an eyebrow raised.

"I literally have no time anymore."

"Go after you finish eating!" Mylene encourages, grinning.

"I'll drop you off!" Alya smirks.

Juleka looks between everyone, then wisely puts in, " ... yeah."

Marinette giggles at them. "Thanks, guys."

A few spoonfuls later, her spaghetti is finished.

"Marinette, finally!" Alya rolls her eyes.

"Spaghetti's hard to finish!" Marinette protests, offended because did Alya have two bowls of spaghetti? No, no she didn't. She had a measly baguette. Exactly.

"In her defence, she had two bowls," Mylene adds for good measure, and Marinette mockingly turns her nose up.

They laugh with her.

It feels good, the laughter. To be laughing, and to be the reason others laugh. Living with Chloe, the Bougeois Brat herself, it's not something she experiences too often. Unless you count Rusty laughing at her for tripping on Winston. Yeah. You probably wouldn't. She wouldn't either.

"So, I should go," Alix decides, standing up. "The race is in ten minutes, and most of my money is on the line."

Rose and Juleka smile. "We'll cheer you on," the pixie haired girl suggests.

Alix nods. "That'd be nice."

"Mylene? We can leave you, is that okay?" Marinette asks as she stands up too.

Mylene shrugs. "Ivan said he'd be around. I'll just find him."

Alya awws. "You two are adorable."

That's one thing all the girls can agree on.

 **-oOo-**

Marinette and Alya are on their way to Monsieur Chastains, beaming and joking the entire way down.

"So, I heard you and Nino are seeing each other?" Marinette offers as a new conversation topic, as their debate on life on other planets is tiring, as Alya's just as stubborn as she is. (For the record, Marinette is a firm believer in Martians, Alya is not.)

"Seeing each other? Yes. Dating? No," Alya corrects her, unable to hide her growing smirk.

"Yeah, you're in love," Marinette decides.

Alya merely scoffs, clearly embarrassed, which the blunette picks up on smugly.

She pushes open Monsieur Chastains' door, the bell going off loudly as the door hits it.

"Bonjeur, Madmoiselles!" a tall and skinny woman calls from the front desk. "Well, come in!"

The woman has a hooked nose and beady eyes, and speaks with what Marinette is pretty sure is an American accent.

With a little push from Alya, her eyes are torn from the gorgeous dresses, and she brings herself to reality.

The woman looks them over apprehensively. She pokes a finger at Marinette. "You are here to meet Monsieur Chastains." She points at Alya. "You are here for your friend, but you need to go soon, yes?"

Slowly, both girls nod.

"How'd you know?" Alya asks.

"One of my many talents," the woman replies. "My husband is in the back, but he'll be here in a second. JULIAN!"

A stout, plump man with braced trousers bustles in. "Yes, darling?"

"This girl wants to see you."

Alya holds up a hand. "Sorry, I gotta run. See ya!"

And she's off.

The man, presumably Monsieur Chastains, looked her up and down. "Do you want me to design something for you? Expert opinion on what to wear? Or, an apprenticeship, or even job?" he says, so fast he's got spittle collecting at the corners of his mouth.

She gulps. "Erm, no, I wanted to buy some fabric?"

Monsieur Chastains looks up curiously. "Fabrics? But you could just buy a dress ... unless! No! You're not an aspiring designer, are you?"

Smiling sheepishly, she nods. "Um, yeah. Yes, I am."

He gasps. "Delightful! I don't suppose you're making a dress for the ball, hmm?"

Woah. Marinette was taken aback. This weirdo was scarily smart.

"Great!" he announces, taking her silence as a yes. "Katherine, take this fine young lady to the back. Quickly, now!"

Madame Chastains, or Katherine, grasped her arm while muttering under her breath in English, and led her through a creaky door, into one of the best rooms Marinette had been in her entire life. It's filled with vivid colours and fabrics that make her eyes water a little, but she blinks fast and gets over the initial joy.

"This side, five gold pieces, this side, ten. I'll tell you how many silver as you go," Madame Chastains says shortly, then steps back and lets Marinette take a look. In her purse is a good half of her savings, twelve gold pieces and thirty silver pieces.

For the lining, she grasps a pale red linen sheet from the five gold pieces side.

She brushes a hand over creamy pink satin and thinks it could do. She's uneasy about it, though. Sighing, she pushes a hand through the rack, and her stomach leaps when it brushes another set of fabrics. She turns around, about to ask the woman behind her if she can check, but she's gone. Shrugging, she pushes past and is squashed between two racks.

Something catches her eye, though. A scarlet silk sheet is strewn on the floor and she almost misses it. A few moments later, she's managed to shuffle her way over and take the fabric. It's gorgeous, she decides dotingly, and then scuttles her way back out.

Monsieur Chastains greets her, then scoops up the fabric and places it on his till. Her breath momentarily catches when she realises hat after this, she'll have a dress, to go to the ball.

"Oh, you've forgotten something!" Monsieur Chastains announces, then ducks behind his desk to get something. He returns with boning material. "How are you going to make your mask, hmm?"

Marinette smiles at him.

Katherine seems to materialise in, she moves so fast, and she harrumphs. "Back in America, we had prom, and homecoming and more, and all you poor Frenchies get a festival for a week every five years."

"What's a ... prom?" Marinette asks curiously.

"Semi - formal dance at high school," she snaps back.

"Oh."

See, the Americans were lucky enough to have schools, not very many, but a good few ordinary ones and a couple private or boarding. France was less lucky. They did have a couple, just not for maids. Her mother and father had taught her plenty, however, and sometimes she was forced to do Chloe's homework, which she was able to pick up a lot from.

She's pretty lucky for the dirt poor.

"Right, so this is altogether, two gold pieces!" Monsieur Chastains announces.

Marinette's eyes widen. "B - but, I - "

He just grins at her. "It's on the house."

Katherine scoffs. "Now, skedaddle, before I manage to change his mind."

Tucking her fabrics under her arm, she sets course for home. With a jolt, she realises that she just referred to the Bourgeois mansion 'home'. She's undergoing all sorts of revelations when someone wolf whistles.

She whirls around and spots a group of men hanging nearby. Breath hitching, she notices the sun is slowly sinking, and it's getting darker by the minute.

Without her seeing, they've inched closer and one grabs her arm.

"Say, pretty, fancy showin' us what you got in that purse o' yours?" he croons, rancid breath on her face. He has yellow, crooked teeth, much too long at the front.

She yanks her arm back forcefully, and stumbles into the colossal belly of another. He grabs both her arms.

"Hunny, we wanna know! And you might as well show us, we'll get it one way or another," he growls, his grip tightening on her arms. She can feel his breath on her ear.

She struggles hopelessly, until she picks up her knee and swings her foot down at full force at his shin. With a cry, he lets go, and she darts away.

"Now, there, all we want is the purse!" another jeers, face full of tattoos, and Marinette shudders at the sight of the club in his hands. The Rabbit Man grabs her purse suddenly, yanking it.

"No!" she cries. "Get off!"

She rips it out and yells in pain when the club makes contact with the middle of her spine, then the back of her knee and _it hurts_ and she falls to the floor.

Fattie snatches her purse and she can see Club Man is aiming a shot at her head when someone steps in.

"Give me the purse," the newcomer growls, his voice soft yet terrifying. She can't see him properly, thanks to the darkness. He casts a long shadow out beside him.

Squinting, she makes out a dark cloak, and a black suit under that. She's pretty sure he has a bell hanging from his neck, but she can't make out his features. Is that - a mask? And those lumps under the hood of his cloak look pointed, suspiciously like ears. He looks intimidating. And if he took her purse, she'd probably have no chance of getting it back.

"Oh, you wanna have a go?" Club Man offers the man in black his club, grinning.

The man takes the club, then smashes Club Man around his legs, so Club Man falls with a a sickening crunch as his knees hit the ground. "I'd never," he hisses, kicking Club Man aside.

Fattie charges him, but a well aimed jab to the chest has him stumbling back. The man knees Fattie in the balls, punches in the face twice, once to the nose, once to the mouth, then pushes him over his knee. His hood has fallen off and she can see those lumps are definitely ears.

Rabbit Man grabs the purse from Fattie's side, and in an instant, has Marinette yanked up to her feet. Something cool and cold slides against her throat.

"Move and I'll slit her throat!" he threatens, pushing the blade a little closer, grazing her skin.

"You wouldn't," the man says uneasily.

"Watch me," replies Rabbit Man, the knife slowly slicing its way through her skin, and she feels a warm dribble of something that was almost definitely blood trace its way to her collarbone.

The man in black seems to be deliberating. With a slightly frustrated grunt, he places down the club, and kicks it away.

Satisfied, Rabbit Man loosens his grip on the knife but it stays at her throat. The man in black is watching her, luminous green eyes trained on hers. His eyes are strange. The scleras are a glowing shade of green, the iris a metallic emerald. He has slit pupils, like a cat. He wants to see what she'll do.

Marinette knows what she has to do. Without warning, she grabs Rabbit Man's wrist and twists it, the knife falling to the floor with a clatter, and she punches him three times then kicks him, hard. He groans and stumbles, and with an extra kick from Marinette, tumbles over.

Suddenly, the man in black is by her side. "Well, that was a satisfying end to the fight. I believe these are yours?" He's holding the fabrics.

"Yes!" she gasps happily. "I can't thank you enough, mister ... ?"

She also takes this time to take a better look at his outfit. He's all in black, with a long sleeved tunic that has stitching up the middle, trousers, high boots, and a leathery, hooded cloak. To keep the cloak from falling off, one side has a loop that fits around a cat bell, that doesn't make a sound. He also has a mask, that looks like leather.

He grins, Cheshire Cat style. Taking her hand, he bows, then kisses it. "Chat Noir, and you?"

Shocked, she stammers out, "M - Marinette."

Chat Noir was a fitting name, she supposed. Not so creative, but definitely fitting. At least he didn't come up with something like 'Midnight' or 'Ebony'. She would've cringed rather than blushed.

"A name fit for a princess!" he beams, scooping up her purse.

"Oh, me? A princess? No, no, not me."

"Sure thing, princess. I believe that every girl should be treated like a princess. And you're quite the fighter. Respect."

Her breath catches. She doesn't remember the last time someone paid her respect. Except maybe the Crown Prince, Adrien. Just maybe.

"Anyway, can I take you home, lovely lady?" he smirks, an eyebrow raised. "Just give me directions." She nods, and he halts. "But, I'll have to pick you up if we want to arrive on time. You good with that?"

A lump in her throat, she nods again.

He grips her waist and takes something out from behind him - a half a metre pole. He holds it vertically out beside him, and without warning, it extends, shooting them up.

He leans forwards and they land on a roof. "Right, hold on!"

She wraps her arms around his neck as he picks her up, bridal style. Then he's springing across the rooftops, barely panting as he leaps and bounds all the way, while she throws out directions.

Eventually, they're there.

"How did you do that?" she gapes, treading the ground to make sure it's there, and she isn't dreaming.

"Came with the costume, I'd imagine."

"Oh, I see," she's still confused, but it doesn't seem like he knows either, so she leaves it.

He stares up at the mansion. "And you say you're not a princess, huh? Might as well be. Isn't this ... the Bourgeois mansion? I didn't know they had two daughters!"

Marinette sighs. "No, I live right up there." She points to the small, circular, pigeon crap stained window, at the very top. "In the attic. I'm the maid."

His eyes widen. "O - oh."

"Yeah, I own three outfits including the one I'm wearing now. This one, my friend gave my yesterday as a birthday present for the past four years. The other two are like bags and have no taste whatsoever. I try not to leave the house in them." she says shortly.

"That matters to you, huh?" he raises an eyebrow under the leather mask.

"Well, yeah, while the other girls have loads of different outfits they wear to the festival, I get this, or the horrible, plain, shapeless fabric which actually reminds me of a sack with armholes. Other girls get nice stuff all the time," she shrugs, biting her lip.

"Oh."

She nods a little. "Anyway, Chat Noir, I have a question."

"Shoot."

"Why the mask? And the costume?"

"Ah. Well, I was given it so I could be freer than I am under the mask. I live with a lot of rules, and Chat Noir is an escape. I don't usually save people, by the way. I've just been granted the ability to free myself, and not be me anymore. The best version of me is the one you see now," he explains softly.

She does think that it sounds a little weird. Maybe he's in trouble, or something? He did mention rules.

"Oh," she says aloud. "Well, I'm sure you're as great under the mask as you are with it."

He just chuckles. "Yeah, that's the issue."

She blinks twice. Maybe not the kind of trouble she had originally assumed. But it still made no sense to her.

"Anyway, I ought to be off. I'm needed at home. So long, Marinette!" he declares, all in one breath. And just like that, he's leaping over rooftops on all fours, just like a cat. What a bizarre sight.

Her biggest challenge is just coming up, however. Get into the house without being spotted. With her luck, it might just be safer to sleep in the barn.

But perseverance is a talent of hers. Sneaking around the back, she takes out a hairpin and easily picks the lock. She slides it open and delicately treads around to the stairs. There's no cover there so she needs to be fast. Two by two, she leaps up them and arrives outside Chloe's room. She needs the ladder to get up to her little hatch.

She eventually makes it, and collapses onto her bed. She has to pull a plank of wood back in place though.

She's restless that night. So, she gets up, and takes out an old sewing machine from her cupboard. It was Chloe's mother's first one, and it was a splendid sewing machine, then she got a better one and took it with her. Marinette adopted the machine, and thinks it works marvellously.

She sets to work. Three hours later, the bodice is complete. Another two and she's attached the skirt.

Sewing the boning material into the mask, she contemplates her day. She decides on definitely going to the festival tomorrow. Apparently, Wednesday is the best day to go because that's when they get all the good food out. Her back still aches though. That was quite the blow to her back and she's not sure it'll recover completely for a while.

And Chat Noir ... he had been charismatic and flirty, but not to a weird extent, and she's almost sure that without the mask, he'd be a definite looker. He had even been with it. Something about his eyes she had found familiar, even though they were so strange. Maybe she's just seen a cat that looked like that. Mimi has green eyes. Something like that.

With a sigh, she collapses onto her bed, exhaustion filtering through her muscles like lead.

 **-oOo-**

Jolting awake, Marinette shoots up. Judging by the position of the sun, it was pretty early. And catching her eye was her dress! Her masterpiece, her mask lying next too it, ribbon dripping from one side. She sighs in contentment. Twirling in her nightgown, she crouches to lift the hatch, happily pads down, and makes herself cereal.

She has her day planned. She's going to go check up on the animals, ride Rusty around the huge Bourgeois racetrack, find and wear her sundress, then go to the festival.

And then her day is ruined. Trotting down the stairs, comes Chloe Bourgeois. Her cheek slips off her hand in dismay and she nearly faceplants in her cereal. M

"Dupain-Cheng!" Chloe snaps. "I need you to iron my clothes and feed the animals!"

"Yes, Chloe."

"And also, find me a nice outfit while you're at it. I'm meeting Adrien Agreste today and I need to be able to show myself off," she declares, picking her nails. "You are going to make treats for us, and Daddy says you need to deliver them personally so that Adrien can see how great I treat my servants. Ride in on the horse, and bring the dog because he's cute and Adrien might like me even more if I own cute animals. You can't bring the scruffy cats, but clean the horse and the dog."

A fire starts burning in Marinette's stomach. Who does she think she is to be meeting Adrien? (And knowing Chloe, she'll probably throw herself all over him.) She doesn't deserve to stare at his perfect face and mesmerising eyes! She can't act like he'll be at her feet in an instant, and she definitely can't fake being nice so that he likes her!

It hits Marinette quite suddenly as she realises that she is extremely jealous. Which therefore means she's crushing on the Crown Prince. Which is unbelievably stupid.

"Oh, and Marinette? You are allowed to borrow one outfit of mine so you look ... presentable when you drop off the food," Chloe spits at her. "Now go!"

In a haste, she dashes off to choose and iron Chloe's outfit. She drapes it over Chloe's pale yellow chaise longue, then hurries into the kitchen. She makes all the pastries and then leaves them on their baking trays, thanking her parents wordlessly for all the times they had her help out in their bakery.

"Winston!" she calls quickly, tumbling to her knees and dropping her bucket, sponge, and a grooming mitt, which she is extremely grateful for. The water sloshes onto her shoes.

Winston bounds up to her, licking her face. His large and clumsy paws are on her knee and his claws prick her, but only so it tickles.

She giggles. "Alright, down, boy. We need to get you tidied up!"

Reluctantly, he gets down and lets her brush him. After she finishes his little bath which isn't really a bath, she brushes out all his knots and he's practically gleaming once she's through with him. Next up is Rusty.

"Hey, boy," she coos and holds his muzzle. He chuffs and nudges he face back. "Alright, so I've gotta get you cleaned up, then we can go for a ride. Also, I need to clean myself up after."

So once she's finished with Rusty, she leads him outside and hops onto his bare back. With a nudge from her heels, he starts with a trot, then when she squeezes, a gallop.

"Woah, boy," she says gently to stop him after they finish the track. He takes the last jump and skids to a halt. She climbs off, and grins. "That was fun. I'll meet you in an hour."

She skids into the ginormous kitchen and almost crashes into the work top but braces and stumbles instead. After five minutes, the treats are in the oven and all set for when she takes them out. By the time she's sorted herself out, they should be done.

Speaking of, she needs to get ready. She zooms off and finds a dark blue, short, loose and cute bardot dress with ruffles at the arms just under the elbows, and a sash to tie at the front. It hits about mid thigh and the sleeves end at three quarter length with the second ruffle (and the first at the elbow).

When it comes to shoes, her inner fashion designer is screaming for a pair of pale orange open toe stiletto boots, with a cute little lace up thing that ties at the back of the shoe. However, practicality wins, and she slips on a pair of baby blue high ankle converse. Sneakily, she 'borrows' the heels anyway, because they might come in handy someday, and they weren't Chloe's style. She wouldn't miss them, as they were buried at the back of her wardrobe, under a pile of old dresses.

She does her hair in a high ponytail, leaving her midnight blue bangs and couple more strands loose.

Before she burns down the mansion, she thunders downstairs and takes out the treats, finding a hamper and then putting in the croissants, pain au chocolates, buns, scones and macarons.

Sighing, she decides she should go, even though she's stalling because she does not want to see Chloe all over Adrien and she does not want him reacting positively.

She carries the hamper in the crook of her elbow and goes to Rusty.

"Hey, buddy," she croons, ruffling his mane. "We gotta get going."

So, she whistles for Winston, who comes running, barking the entire way.

"Hey, you need to be a good boy," she tells him softly but firmly, and he sits, like 'good boy? I am the _best_ boy!' She giggles at her goofy dog, then mounts Rusty.

"Winston, heel! Rusty, walk on," she commands, but smiles when Winston is confused at how to follow her heel when if he did, he'd be kicked in the face with a horse hoof. "Sorry, Winston, side." She pats Rusty's side to demonstrate. Then, she knocks her heels against his flanks to indicate that he can run.

Rusty takes off, leaving Winston to eat his dust, but to Marinette's delight, he catches up.

When they finally arrive, she hops off and guides Rusty towards the front gates, gripping a role with a loop that hangs loosely around the stallion's neck. She tethers him to a tree, and whistles for Winston.

"Hello?" she says as she approaches the same black haired lady that she saw at the fountain. "I'm here to personally hand deliver the goodies for Madmoiselle Chloe and His Majesty, Monsieur Adrien?"

The lady half smiles at the way she almost tripped up on the Crown Prince's title, but pulled it back at the last second. "Yes, they've decided to eat outside, such a lovely day."

A gust of wind almost blows up her skirt and she treads in a pile of soggy leaves. "Yes, s - such a lovely day ... "

Winston barks as though he's extremely confused. She had to agree. Maybe royals are just ... weird?

The lady seems to be fighting to hide her laugh as she leads her around a corner, to reveal a huge and beautiful garden, with one alcove that voices seems to be coming from. "Although I do believe Monsieur Adrien sat outside on purpose, just for the look on Madmoiselle Chloe's face."

Marinette gasped a little, but smiled. "That's a little bit funny."

The lady nodded. "I might just agree."

She opens her mouth to reply, when the lady says, "Your Majesty, the treats you ordered?" And nudges Marinette forwards. Then leaves.

Chloe and Adrien are sat on a picnic bench, Chloe one side, Adrien the other. Their hands are touching in the middle of the table, Chloe is giggling at something he's just said, and he's chuckling a little too. The blunette fights the urge to hit Chloe over the head with a hammer.

"Ah, thank you," Adrien smiles and stands, making his way over to her in strong strides.

A wave of paranoia comes over her. Her dress is too short, too casual. And why is she wearing converse? She's way too casual for the prince! She looks stupid, she -

His hands brush hers as he reaches for the hamper. "So, I can see you're very well looked after?" His gaze flits down, all the way to her converse which have a little bit of soggy leaf on them, to her hair which probably has a twig in it. "Nice dog."

Winston whines and sits next to Marinette, right against her leg.

"Yeah - " she begins, and catches Chloe drawing a line across her throat and glaring at her. "Chloe looks me after - I mean, after me - very well. She, uh, is great."

The glare sent her way could kill.

"Oh, lovely. I mean, you dress so well, I'm sure Chloe buys you outfits?" he smiles charmingly, showing some of his pearly white teeth.

"Yes," she draws that word out as long as possible, to stall. "She, um, does. I have, two - um, twenty outfits! Amazing f - for a maid, right?"

Adrien laughs his perfect laugh. "Yes, incredible! And you have a nice room?"

"Of course, it's big and spacious and ... really big," she leaves it at that. "Well, here treats," she thrusts them into his arms, not even noticing her slip up. "Which I made, because Chloe gave me loads of ingredients and instructions and time. She's a great person!"

Before she hurls, Marinette turns sharply and walks as fast as possible, but decides to listen in so she hides behind a bush, just in case Adrien mentions her.

"Anyway, she seemed a little off," he says, probably leaning to take her hand.

"Marinette is troubled," Chloe sighs. "Her parents died, we took her in. She's a lovely girl, just a weirdo. Anyways, tell me more about your time in Italy!"

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she storms off and unties Rusty. "Let's just go." He nickers but obviously, asks no questions. "I'll get to the festival once I'm done. Chloe will be done by then so I can drop off the clothes."

Rusty does nothing. Obviously. She sighs and knocks her heels against his flanks, so he starts up a trot. Bobbing up and down, she decides to spend some time with the animals when she gets home, then when Chloe arrives, she'll rush indoors.

When she does arrive home, she notices a boy waiting outside the mansion.

It's Nathanael, the postman's son, and also one of the local kids that hung around when she and the other children of the area met at the park.

"Hey, Marinette!" he smiles and hands her a letter. "Dad got a little sick, so, I'm delivering today."

"Oh," she says sympathetically, gripping Rusty's rope. "Hope he gets better soon."

He nods. "Y - yeah. I was just wondering if y - you wanted to go out to the festival, at their cafe, with me at some point?"

"Sure! Who else is going?" she asks, completely oblivious to what he's asking. She's like that with boys.

"No, I, uh, meant just you and me."

"Oh!" she catches on. "Oh ... "

He stares back at her, his face slowly growing more and more panicked.

"Why not?" she shrugs. "If I'm late, Chloe held me up. Say, three pm, tomorrow?"

"And, and - if it goes well, I might get a dance with you ... at the ball?" he says shyly, shuffling his feet.

She beams at him. "That's if you can guess who I am!"

He smiles a little wider and meets her gaze. "I'm sure - "

"Ah ah ah!" she giggles, "I shall be a master of disguise!"

"Of course," he laughs a little. "Sure. See you tomorrow, I need to get moving!"

"Yeah, see ya."

Maybe Nathan will serve her well. It's not like she can have the Crown Prince, but Nathan's a perfectly nice guy. Sure, he didn't make her insides erupt with butterflies, didn't make her wish and wish to be with him all the time, and she'd probably be happy for him if he met another girl. But he's nice. Maybe that stuff will develop, given time, but for now, she'll consider this date as a friendly thing. Not a _date_ date.

She leads Rusty into his stable, and smiles when she realises that Nathan didn't even bat an eyelid at her having a horse next to her the entire time. That's always a plus.

Then, she clicks her tounge for the cats, and Barney dashes out, Hetty on his heel, chasing his tail. She coos at them.

"Mimi?"

Something brushes against her leg, and she only then sees the master of stealth herself. She scoops her up, and the black little furball purrs loudly and butts her head against her cheek.

"I could learn a lesson from you, Mee," Marinette decides. "You're a little ninja, you are."

Mimi meows back.

Barney, feeling neglected, meows loudly and reaches up to put his paws on her leg. Hetty headbutts his face and Marinette does not miss his purr.

"Oh, come on!" she moans. "I do not need the kittens! You guys!" She turns to Mimi and holds her up in front of her. "We're screwed. You're the sensible one here."

Hetty and Barney start playing a game where they're chasing each other's tails, purring and meowing, pouncing on each other. Marinette puts Mimi down and scoops Hetty up. The black cat runs off and Hetty purrs happily, turning her nose up at Barney who protests with an adorable meow.

When Chloe finally comes back, Marinette is already inside, crashed out on their sofa.

"DUPAIN-CHENG!" she roars. "WHAT WAS THAT?!"

She sits upright, completely rigid as she stands up. "Madmoiselle ... what was, erm, what?"

"You, talking to Adrien, about your twenty outfits! Your big room!" she yells. "And you can keep that outfit you're wearing! I refuse to wear anything that you've touched!"

A strange urge to go and brush her hands all over Chloe's outfits comes over, but she rids of it quickly. That's actually dumb.

"You wanted me to flatter you, and the way you treat me. Sorry, but I don't have much to go off of," she retorts, almost stopping herself but deciding she might as well go for it.

"Excuse me?!"

"You heard me. You treat me like crap, and I'm meant to do my best to make you sound good? Yeah, I was improvising. Bit hard!" she exclaims, adrenaline firing her up.

"Get out!" Chloe screams. "Come back later! Just - get out!"

Huffing, Marinette grabs her purse and storms out. Only when she shuts the door behind her does it hit her. "What have I done ... ?"

So, now Duke Bourgeois will probably fire her, and she's screwed. Homeless and penniless and screwed. The worst part is, it's her fault.

Soon, she reawakens and becomes aware of where her feet have unconsciously led her. She's stood at the gate of the church graveyard. Her parents are buried here.

"Hello, Maman, Papa," she sighs as she rests on her knees in front of the slabs of stone with her parents' names etched into them. Here lies Sabine Cheng, Thomas Dupain.

Tears well in her eyes and she wipes them before they can fall.

"Howdy, princess," a familiar voice interrupts.

"Chat?" she gasps as her head whips around.

"Nice to see you," he says happily, a small grin making its way onto his face.

"What's up?" she asks, standing up.

"Oh, nothing much. Had a bit of a rough day, I guess. Whatever. You?"

"Sucky day. Chloe forced me to lie in front of the Crown Prince, and now he's probably in love with her because of how well I said she treated me!" she sighs, sitting down on a stone bench.

"I'm sure her personality outshone your lies," he jokes, rocking to the side to bump her shoulder with his. "Don't you worry."

"To be honest, I just wish one of my lies were true," she says, and at the look on his face, decides to elaborate. "I told Prince Adrien I had twenty outfits. I wish I did."

He opens his mouth to talk, when she interrupts.

"Although, I sewed one the other day, for the ball!" she beams, noting the surprise and slight pride in his eyes.

"Wait, you sewed your own dress?" he repeats, jaw hanging wide open.

"Yeah," she smiles modestly. "It was the best bit of work I've done in ages."

"You're amazing!" he gasps, still in awe.

She blushes a little, then asks, "are you going?"

"To the ball? In my civilian self. You won't recognise me."

"Oh."

"Don't worry though! I can talk to you about it after," he offers, smiling.

She smiles back. "Of course we can."

He changes the subject abruptly. "So, what brings you to a graveyard?"

"My parents passed away when I was fourteen. Chloe kicked me out when I retaliated against her having a go at me for my bad lying. I ended up here."

"Oh."

"And what brings you here?" she leans forwards, narrowing her eyes, feigning suspicion. She chuckles and rocks back into place.

"I may or my not have spotted a familiar, beautiful young lady entering, and thought I fancied a little chat," he shrugs, a corner of his mouth tilting upwards.

"Oh?"

"Oh, yes indeed. You're quite the _cat_ ch," he grins.

"Tell me _meow_ re," she giggles, trying to stay serious.

"Well, you're totally pawsome, and purrfect!" he declares.

"You have _cat_ to be _kitten_ me! Well, you're the cat's meow!" she beams, returning the shoulder bump.

He _paw_ ses, and looks up. "Mari, I have a question."

"Chat?"

"Are we friends?"

"I do believe so."

At her words, his entire face lights up, and she can't tell why, but whatever the case, it makes her happy. She finds herself grinning back.

"Thanks."

"What're you thanking me for? It was my pleasure!"

His grin only widens. "You wanna head down to the festival?"

"Sure!" she stands up.

He stands up too, and sticks his elbow out. "I hear it's best on Wednesdays."

"I hear the same."

"Let's hope not everything has sold out."

"I'm hoping."

"Good, good."

Soon enough, they're at the stall that you have to knock something down to get a prize. Marinette's eyes are set on the cat plushie.

"Alright, missy, all you gotta do is knock down that one for the cat!" the worker says, pointing to a little cat face in the corner.

Chat laughs when he sees how small it is, but she turns and glares. "You laugh, but I got this cat in the bag."

He laughs harder.

She harrumphs and aims, gripping her small wooden ball. And she fires, then knocks it straight over.

Needless to say, Chat ceases laughing. In fact, he's so shocked he can't formulate a sentence because he just got schooled.

She takes the cat plushie and then bops Chat on the nose. "What, cat got your tongue?"

He gapes at her, and then, he just chuckles. Ruffling her hair, he says, "I never doubted you."

She scoffs. "Sure, sure, kitty."

They spend another two hours at different stalls, when Chat Noir bursts out, "Princess, would you like to do this again, tomorrow?"

She tilts her head and blinks. She's about to say yes when she remembers Nathan. "Oh, I'm so sorry, but I've got a date tomorrow."

"A date?" he repeats, something seeming to dawn on him but she's not sure what. "Oh."

"Oh. Yeah. Hopefully he thinks I'm a _cat_ ch," she offers, trying to make him smile.

He does, but it's weak. "Cats before guys?"

She laughs. "Sure, Chat."

"Saturday?"

"I can do Saturday."

"Okay."

She shuffles her feet. "That got awkward fast."

He hums his agreement. "Yeah."

"Anyway ... are you excited for the ball?" she offers, looking up.

"To be honest, no. I'm going to get swamped in people, and I won't be able to meet anyone, and I'm just so not excited," he groans, and rakes a hand through his hair.

"Aww, is kitty in distress?" she croons, and reaches up to scratch behind one of his ears. "You might meet me!"

"Yeah, but you wouldn't recognise me, and wouldn't want to dance with me."

"How do you know?"

"I think, for some, I might be a little intimidating."

"King Gabriel?" she gasps in faux shock.

"No!" he laughs at her, and she feels a sense of pride now that he's laughing.

"Then I'll dance with you."

He smiles at her and ruffles her hair again. "So, who's your date?"

"Oh, it's a first time thing. I don't really know if I want to make it official."

He hums. "Ah. Just remember, cats before guys."

She nods solemnly. "Of course."

He laughs, which makes her happy. "I'll take you back?"

In response, she grips his clawed hand and smiles. He scoops her up and springs, shooting up using his pole. It's an even nicer ride than the first, because she was uncomfortable when she felt his hot breath against her ear, his heart beating, fast and hard under her body, his fingers gripping her legs and ribs.

He lands with a thump on the Bourgeois roof. "I'll just open it up."

He swings down, and opens the window, then hauls himself back up. He holds out a hand as he can't pull himself up because of the tiny ledge. She pretends to be annoyed and huffs loudly and exaggeratedly, then takes his hand and helps yank him up.

He rolls over on the roof, staring at the sky. "Well, you gonna join me?"

She laughs and gets down next to him, clasping her hands over her stomach.

They lie there for about half an hour, Chat humming songs at random points and Marinette telling him to shut up because she's trying to enjoy the view.

"I need sleep," she decides when her eyes droop and she blinks them open, regretfully.

"Yeah, I'll help you down - WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" he half shouts as he looks up to see Marinette over the edge, facing him with her forearms on the side and her feet dangling as she attempts to find the ledge.

"Oof," she replies as one of her converse catch onto the sill. "Right - one second!"

Both her feet are on the sill and she puts them on the corners of each side, so they're stable.

"Marinette - " Chat warns.

"Yeah, catch me if I fall."

And she drops. Chat makes a weird noise that sounds like a strangled screech, but he hears her exhalation of breath and a thump as she lands into her room so after that, he's probably just annoyed that she scared him.

"Mari?" he calls. "Are you good?"

"Yeah, I am. Get over here!"

She hears him scoff at that, and he swings himself down, to perch on the sill. "Hi."

"Good _bye_ , Chat Noir. I'm tired," she replies, as she takes out her pigtails and shakes out her hair.

He chuckles. "G'night, princess."

"Night, kitty."

And then he's off, into the night sky, a shadow over the rooftops.

 **-oOo-**

"DUPAIN-CHENG! GET YOURSELF DOWN HERE, THIS INSTANT!" Chloe screams.

Groaning, she hauls herself out of bed and trudges downstairs. "Yes, Chloe?"

"Just checking to see if you were back. You can go now. Out of my sight!" she demands, picking her nails.

A growl building up in the back of her throat, she storms back upstairs to get ready for her date. She decides to wear the stiletto boots and her sundress, because she was definitely dressing to impress.

She lays them over her bed and goes for a shower, but she has to use a different room than the big, luxury one, because Chloe says she doesn't deserve that stuff, and also Marinette's bathroom doesn't have hot water.

She exhales shakily as the first bucketload of freezing droplets hit her, and because they're so cold, it feels like she's being pelted with rocks.

She steps out, quaking, and hobbles up to her room.

Once she's dressed, she sits on her bed, and holds her dress. Sighing, she understands that it's pretty special for a homemade dress made from two fabrics that she bought for two gold from a generous tailor and his wife. But she just wishes it had a little more wow factor, something that might impress the other people attending, that would make her friends proud to call her a friend when she walked in.

She just hopes they won't look away.

Although, she really wants to see Chat, civilian form or not. She's sure that his personality would shine through, and there's no way he'd _not_ do a cat pun. That would be a dead giveaway.

Truth be told, she wants to know who was under that mask. It nags at her, constantly, whenever she looks at his face. It's a sense of mild paranoia, especially once he hinted that he was important. Young men who are important ... nothing comes to mind. There are too many important young men, and none of them hint Chat.

Oh well. It wasn't really her business anyways, she knows that.

She gets up and glanced out the window to try and see the church clock. 1:57.

She is screwed.

Taking off her heels so she can run, she grabs her purse and legs it, sprinting out if the house and pelting down the roads, swerving into the cafe at top speed. Panting for breath, she scans the tables and sees Nathan, his fingers clasped together with his elbows propped on the table.

"Nathan!" she gasps as she hops over, in her top toes. Once she's there, she slips on her heels.

"Oh! Marinette! What caused the holdup?" he asks, repositioning so his hands are in his lap.

"Oh, uh, Chloe problems," she mutters, pretending she wasn't preoccupied thinking about Chat.

"Ah, I understand."

"Allo, allo! What can I get the lovely couple?" a random waiter asks as he materialised out of nowhere.

"Cheese and ham toastie," Marinette orders. "And a coffee."

"Hot chocolate and a baguette," Nathan says.

"Okey dokey! I'll be right back!" he declares and moves so fast, it's like he teleported.

Nathan leans over and murmurs, "this'll be interesting."

Marinette laughs. "Well, at least he had character!"

Nathan returns to his composted position and nods. "Yeah, character."

The waiter returns after exactly seven minutes, and Marinette knows that because he told them. ("Seven minutes! I have returned after seven minutes!" he had announced before putting down their food.)

Marinette sips her coffee so as to avoid Nathan's eyes. This was a very awkward date. And she had thought that she and Chat Noir had an awkward moment. This was worse.

Her cheese and ham toastie is delicious though, so she just makes random comments about how nice it is.

When they're done, Nathan says, "Mari, I'll be right back, just going to go and pay."

"I have some money, do you want me to - ?" she offers but he cuts her off.

"No, it's fine. Don't worry about it." He walks off and she fiddles with the hem of her dress.

"Shall I escort you back?" Nathan suggests and she looks up, and she laughs aloud when for a second, she had thought he was going to scoop her up and launch off with his ninja-baton and run over rooftops. "What? What is it?" he asks, cutting off her train of thought.

"Oh, nothing. Déjà vu," she says shortly, then takes his hand.

He blushes a little, then walks her back, hardly saying a word. They stop outside the gates.

"I had fun," she says politely.

"Same," he replies, shuffling his feet uncomfortably.

"But, um, we'll see about that dance, hmm?" she says, deciding to take the flirty approach to break the ice, and bops his nose gently.

He blinks, then smiles. "We sure will."

"I best be off," she glances at the house, then back at him.

"Yeah, I'll be seeing you," he says a little wistfully, which makes her heart ache a little because sooner or later, she's going to need to put him down.

"Bye," she says and kisses him on the cheek, then hurries off, scolding herself for accidentally leading him on.

She pauses outside and takes off her shoes, then dashes inside and upstairs before she's spotted.

She's lying in her bed, studying the ceiling. It's too light outside to be able to sleep, but it's too late for her to go out. She's not tired.

A knock at her window brings her to her senses.

Getting up, she looks over and sees a black shadow at the window, a clawed finger tapping the shit-stained glass. She laughs a little breathily, then opens it.

"Bonjour, kitty!" she calls as he slithers in.

"Hey," he says from where he's fallen on the floor.

"What brings you here at this time?" she asks as she sits back on the bed.

"I wanted to know how your date went!" he declares as he sits up.

"Eh, it was pretty awkward. He's a super sweet guy though," she informs him, smiling a little.

"Oh. Better luck next time," he says, shrugging.

She hums an agreement. Then she notices her dress, and says, "Chat! Chat, look at my dress!" She throws him the dress, beaming.

He catches it. "Woah, this is insane!"

"You really think so?" she asks quietly, tilting her head.

"Yes!"

"Aw thanks!" she smirks a little. "So, what do you wanna do?"

"We could go to the festival?" he offers.

"Well, duh. Sure, let's go."

So, he climbs out and then helps her out, then grabs her and launches them off, his heart practically booming as he runs.

She is returned to the floor just outside the festival, when Marinette remembers something.

"Hey, Chat? Last festival, five years ago and the five years before that, Thursday evening, didn't they have a band playing?" she recalls vaguely because she could hear it from the bakery, then her parents took her to watch them play.

"Wouldn't know. I wasn't allowed to go," he grumbles.

"Oh."

"But maybe! Shall we go check?" he raises a leather-covered eyebrow and when she giggles and nods, grabs her hand and runs.

She is dragged along, laughing and narrowly avoiding objects such as poles and bins. He pulls up at the centre, where a stage is being set up.

"Oh my gosh," Chat gushes in a whisper, gripping her hand.

"What?" she looks up at him, and that he's gone so pale, he's practically glowing white in the light.

"That's - that's Jagged Stone!" he squeaks and does a little dance that looks like he's trying not to pee himself.

"You're a fan?" she gasps, delighted.

"Yes! B - but, there he is!"

"Where? Holy crap, where?! Does my hair look okay?" she squeals and flattens her wind-ruffled hair.

"Yes, yes, does mine?"

"No!"

"Gee, thanks."

"You're welcome. How should we talk to him?" she glances over to see the rockstar himself, with a head of luscious black locks, tipped with purple, and she realises she is getting completely carried away when she has to pick her jaw up off of the ground.

"I don't know - " Chat is interrupted by the whine of a microphone, and Marinette zooms back into reality and notices the gathering crowd.

"Good evening Paris!" Jagged Stone yells into the mircrophone and everyone cheers back. "So, today I'm going to treat you all with a song!"

Everyone screams back, including Chat and Marinette. He glances down at her, grinning, and she returns the gesture. Marinette notes his American accent.

Jagged then proceeds to sit at his piano and play a tune, and he sings along excitedly and very well, smiling at the crowd at some points, but mostly just enraptured in his music, as are most of the crowd.

Some random fan with long, blonde hair and a camera climbs onto the the stage, and is about to take a selfie, when Jagged's agent marches out. Her short, shaggy purple-pink hair contrasts perfectly with her mocha-coloured skin. In awe, Marinette watches as she grabs the camera and tosses it away, hands on her hips as the fan dives to grab it. She sees her lips form the words 'nice reflexes', before she storms back away.

Marinette does feel slightly bad for the fan, but he had pulled quite a disrupting move.

"Anyway, I want to thank all my less obsessive fans for cheering me on and giving me the inspiration and encouragement to keep going! So, thank you all!" Jagged shouts to the crowd, with a tiny smirk on his face.

The crowd whoops back. Well, he really knows how to keep them all going.

As soon as he finishes, Marinette and Chat are two of the first to edge away. And then, someone grabs her hands and pulls her into the midst of the crowd. A new song is playing, a bright and lively one. Everyone is dancing.

They all stop when the music hits a certain beat, then they clap twice and stomp twice. Then they turn and face a new partner, someone who they've never met before.

Marinette grips the hand and shoulder of an older man, with a wise face and salt and pepper hair. He smiles at her and spins her in sync with the others. Then they turn, and face someone new.

Glancing over as she turns, she sees Chat Noir, grinning ear to ear, as he laughs when he turns and flashing a grin at his new partner.

"Marinette?" her new partner asks.

"Hey! Kim!" Marinette beams. She knows Kim from when he used to play with her and her friends sometimes. He had a huge crush on Chloe Bourgeois, and she isn't sure if he still does.

"Speak to ya after!" he says and claps in time with her and the rest of the crowd.

A few turns later, Marinette slams into a familiar chest. "Hey, Chat," she smiles.

"Mari," he greets her back and she notices that a lot of people have dropped out. He spins her, then leads her offside, and whispers, "watch."

She looks over to the two couples left. One is a tall, skinny man, and one is a short, plump lady. Another is a young girl, about two years older than Marinette herself, and one is a boy, looking around the other girl's age, maybe another year or so older.

She has long, caramel hair that reaches her waist, and huge almond shaped hazel eyes. He has short black hair, and blue eyes that stand out.

He reaches for her at the same time she reaches for him, and they grip each other's hands, staring at each other like the rest of the world has dropped away. The other couple edge away, then they start the cheering.

Marinette and Chat join in, cheering for the couple in the middle.

"C'mon, kiss her!" someone shouts.

The same cry is then scattered over the crowd from different people. So, he kisses her and everyone erupts into cheering.

Chat laughs and smiles at her. "You know, I think one day, I'd like someone who'd look at me like that."

"Like what?" she asks, knowing perfectly well what, but she wants to hear it from him.

"Like I was their _world_. Like for all they cared, there could be smarter, funnier, better looking, braver and genuinely better people than me, and they'd still see _me_ ," he sighs, but smiles wistfully. "You know?"

"Yeah, I know."

"Hey, Mari!" Kim calls as he approaches.

"Oh, hi! Chat, meet Kim. Kim, meet Chat," at the look on Kim's face, she elaborates. "It's a nickname."

Chat smiles hesitantly. "Nice to meet you."

"And you. Well, Mari, it was great to see you. By the way, I'm totally over Chloe."

Marinette laughs at that, because that was the first thing that crossed his mind to let her know. "Okay, Kim. I'll see you."

He nods, and jogs off, just to remind anyone who's watching that he came first in the county athletics competition, because that's the kind of person he is.

"Well, that was ... " Chat pauses, looking for a world to fill the awkward silence. "Great."

She chuckles. "Hmm. You wanna go get some candyfloss?"

After they buy some pink, sugary fluff, Chat is analysing his suspiciously. "It was way too cheap for it not to be drugged."

She shrugs. "It's sugary food. What's not to like?"

He scoffs. "Well don't come crying to me when you can't walk straight because your candyfloss was drugged."

"Put a sock in it, kitty. Just eat it," she tells him, eating more of hers.

Pulling a face, he eats his up, quite eagerly stuffing his face as soon as he starts. Marinette assumes he doesn't eat sweets very often.

"Okay, you win," he mumbles around his candyfloss, stuffing his face.

"Hmm," she agrees and dips her finger into his, and then licks it off.

"Hey!" he pouts, holding his sugary fluff at a safe distance from her.

"What?" she smiles coyly, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers innocently.

"You know exactly what! A cute face can't get you out of everything!" he places a hand on his hip and frowns.

"You think I'm cute?" she beams and reaches over to take some more of his candyfloss.

"So what?" he says quickly, and she notices the exposed parts of his cheeks are a little flushed.

"Aww!"

"How about me?" he asks, masked eyebrows raised.

"Chat, you literally wear a mask."

"Oh, yeah."

"You could always show me," she ventures, taking a more serious path in their light conversation.

"No, I couldn't. That's not how it works, I'm sorry," he glances down uncomfortably, but says it firmly.

She nods and tells him she understands, but really, she doesn't. At all.

"Okay ... " he trails off, then smiles at her happily. "You wanna head on out?"

She nods slowly and takes his outstretched arm, slipping hers into the crook of his elbow.

They take a casual stroll back out, Chat humming a tune in a low tone the entire way, shooting her a smile every couple of minutes.

And then, he scoops her up without warning and launches off, eliciting a small squeak from her.

After a minute or so, he stops with somewhat of a screech, then drops down into an alley behind some houses.

"Sorry, princess. I just had a little dizzy spell," he mutters, one hand braced against the wall.

Tentatively, she reaches over and places a hand on his arm. "It's okay, kitty. Wouldn't want you getting hurt now, would we?"

"Sorry," he repeats. "Probably dehydration. Or drugged candyfloss."

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, you're fine."

"Well, what'da we 'ave 'ere?" an obnoxiously loud voice slurs.

Chat and Marinette look up in sync, eyes wide and alarmed. They're greeted with the not so lovely sight of a huge man, his dark hair wild and green eyes animalistic. They're like Chat's, but they're not. Chat's are a charming, stunning, electric green and the man's remind her of pond scum. She instinctively takes a step back. He's clearly drunk.

"We gotta blue headed girl and a cat boy! Whatta sight ta see!" the man announces, swaying on his feet.

"Can we help you?" Chat steps forwards, rigid with the threat of the drunk man.

"Ya can! I think it's a bit weird that you two are goin' 'round when night is fallin'!" he cries.

"Well, thanks for your concern, but it's not necessary. We'll be off," Chat grabs her hand and pulls her down the alley, towards the man and is about to move past him when they're stopped.

"You ain't goin' nowhere, cat boy," the drunk man informs them, moving to block them.

The newly nicknamed 'cat boy' turns and glares, his top lip pulled back in a snarl. "Move!"

The drunk man does not. Instead, he draws a dagger and brandishes it.

Chat shoves Marinette away, gently as he can, so that she she can still move away fast. What was it with being attacked by weirdos lately? This could not possibly be normal. Paris needs some sort of crime fighting team to prevent this sort of stuff, she decides. Where were the police? And why the hell did a drunk man have access to a dagger?

Chat and the drunk man are locked in a duel, and Chat's definitely more technical and balanced, but the other man has the size advantage.

The drunk man, woozy and unsteady on his feet, lunges forwards (at least, it was supposed to be forwards), but then sways right and his knife slashes Chat's shoulder.

Chat cries out a little, and backs up, dangerously glaring and taking a more threatening stance. Now that blood has been drawn, he knows it's a more serious fight. Marinette knows she'll have to make her move before they hurt each other too badly.

Scrambling around, she ends up crawling into a bin, and recoils, rubbing her nose. The bin lid clatters and falls off, landing on her hand. She winces and holds her hand to her chest, finally appreciating the dangers of bin lids.

That was it!

Careful not to make a sound, which takes a lot of conscious effort, she creeps up behind the man, reaches up, and wallops him around the head with the bin lid. He crumples to the ground, motionless other than the rise and fall of his chest.

"Woo!" she shakes her hand out, and her eyes are wide and she gives a weird, breathless laugh. "That was strange!"

"You're awesome. And, you know what? I think my dizzy spell has passed," he decides, looking at the man passed out on the floor.

"We should go."

"Agreed."

 **-oOo-**

When they get back, Marinette clambers into her room and pulls Chat in after her.

"I'm going to go get something for your arm," she mutters and undoes the latch to her attic, before leaving to her bathroom, which she's pretty has something useful in there somewhere.

She thinks to herself that it's a wonder that neither Chloe nor the duke have woken up with all the commotion she and Chat make. Really, they were extremely heavy sleepers.

She returns with bandages, a rag and some alcoholic, antibacterial liquid.

"Hiya," she calls quietly as she opens the hatch.

"Is that antibac?" Chat gushes as he gapes at the antibac.

"Yes ... why?" she narrows her eyes, frowning as she sits on her bed.

"Get that away from me!" he squeaks, waving his arms about.

"You're such a wuss. A little wussy puss."

"I am not."

"Grow a pair, Chat Noir."

With an exaggerated sigh, he gets up and sits next to her, ripping his sleeve a little so she has more room.

It takes a little bit of coaxing, but she manages to clean his cut with the rag.

"You're lucky he was drunk, you know," she scolds as she finishes up with the rag and antibac.

"Yeah."

"I had to come along in and save your ass. You are very, very lucky for a black cat."

He laughs at that. "I know, princess. I know. Besides, it was better me than you."

"Don't say that!"

"I meant it!" he retorts, looking over.

She doesn't look up, and continues studiously wrapping up his arm. "I don't care. Your life is just as significant as mine."

"Signifi- _cat_."

"Please shut up."

"Fine. I'm just glad you're okay."

"Again! You have a responsibility to look after yourself, Chat Noir! You are just as important as me! Signifi-cat, if you will," she adds the last part so he doesn't feel like she's being demeaning. She just wants him to take care of himself.

"Okay, princess."

"Sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

Getting up, she digs around in her pocket and finds a string of beads. "Here. It's my lucky charm."

"Why are you giving it to a black cat, then?" he pulls a face.

"Because, kitty, I have a little bit of luck to spare. You need to take care," she opens up his hand and puts the charm in it, then closes his fingers around it.

"Thanks, princess."

"You're welcome."

"You're amazing, Marinette. I feel so ... so insignifi-cat compared to you," he sighs, running a hand through his messy hair.

"Chat, you saved my life, twice."

"So? You probably would've done it yourself, anyway," he huffs.

"That's just delusional."

"You think?"

"Yeah. You're one of the best people I've had the pleasure of meeting, so ... don't make yourself feel bad," she says quietly, staring at his closed fist.

She looks up at him and smiles. He smiles back, but she decides to ruin the moment when she smacks him upside the head and says, "now, scat, Chat, I need my sleep!"

He rolls his eyes. "The priorities here ... I feel so underappreciated."

She sighs, and faces him. "I'm happy I met you, Chat Noir."

"Yeah, me too, Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

Then come the shy smiles.

Marinette puts a hand on his chest lightly, then stretches onto her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. Her lips meet soft skin, her hand bracing against his chest. She pushes him gently. "Get outta here."

He smiles at her. "Right, see ya, Princess!"

And just like that, he swings himself out of the window and she can just make out his figure, a smudge of raven black against the night.

The next morning, she sleeps in. Everyone's getting ready for and stressing about the ball anyway, so she doesn't really need to worry because all she needs to do is put on a dress. Otherwise, she doesn't need to do much.

Chloe only needs her to do her makeup and hair about an hour before the ball, which starts promptly at 6:30. So, at 5:30, she can make a start on Chloe, finish about 6, and then Chloe can finish herself off. Then, as soon as Chloe leaves, at about 6:15, Marinette can get ready and go. The ball officially finishes at three in the morning, but people usually press for as long as they can.

She is planning on telling the duke that she is going, it would be disastrous if she turned up and they saw her (which was highly likely) because she'd be severely punished for going behind their backs.

So, she just needed to wait a little longer.

She decides to spend some time at the festival, before she has to go.

"Madmoiselle!" someone calls and she whirls around too see the dark haired boy from the day before.

"H - hello?" she stammers out.

"Hi! Um, you were there yesterday, when I kissed Elizabeth, yes?" he says and Marinette notes his accent. She's pretty sure it's British.

"Yes?" she raises an eyebrow, folding her arms.

"Have you seen her today?" he asks, beginning to babble. "She went missing when we came here today, one minute she was right there, the next she was gone!"

"Okay ... why do you think I can help?" she inquires, glancing around.

"Because, there's barely anyone here and I recognise you from yesterday."

"Oh."

"Can you or can you not?" he snaps, starting to look worried.

"I, uh, can," she decides, a note of determination in her tone.

The boy smiles. "Good. I'm Kyle, nice to meet you."

"I'm Marinette."

"Nice name."

"Thanks."

"Shall we ... go?" he asks, pointing a thumb behind him.

"Sure."

And so, they turn around, beginning their search for Liz.

"Wait, who were you with yesterday?" he asks and faces her.

"Oh, a couple of friends," she said shortly.

"You think you might be able to get ahold of them?"

She shakes her head.

"Oh."

"I reckon she wanted to surprise you before you guys go to the ball."

"You do?" he asks, tentatively.

She nods. "Don't worry."

He nods back. "Okay. But, if she isn't at the ball, can I get ahold of you somehow?"

Marinette pulls a face. "Um, so, I live, um - "

She thinks about it. If she tells him, he'll think very badly of her. If she doesn't, he'll keep feeling bad about Liz. She really wishes she could wear a mask. "I live in the Bourgeois mansion."

"Like ... a roommate?"

"Kind of."

"I'll bear it in mind," he declares. "I'll come by tomorrow to let you know what happens."

She smiles. "Okay. I'm gonna go get ready, see you then!"

 **-oOo-**

When she enters, she sees Duke Bourgeois is home.

"Monsieur Bourgeois!" she calls, and hurries over.

"Yes?" he looks up from his newspaper.

"I wanted to ask ... can I go to the ball?" she gushes, terrified.

"You have a dress? And a mask? You can't go in that," he says, eyebrows raised a little.

"I do, sir!" she replies quickly. "Please?"

"YOU HAVE A DRESS?" someone roars from the stairs. "AND ARE THOSE MY SHOES?!"

Marinette curses under her breath. The Bourgeois Brat just had to turn up. "Sorry, Madmoiselle."

"Bring me the dress," Chloe demands darkly, and Marinette scuttles upstairs, past Chloe who trips her up, and into the attic.

When she gets down, she sees that Chloe has been waiting at the bottom, scowling and tapping her foot.

"Here," she whispers and hands over the dress.

"Hmph! You call this skimpy, cheap lump of fabric a dress? I think I can fix it!" she snaps, and with the most horrifying noise, tears down the line of stitching on one side. The moment replays itself in Marinette's head, the rip even more sickening than the last.

She covers her mouth to muffle a sob when the blonde rips again. And again. And again.

Then Chloe throws the scraps into the blunette's arms. "I fixed it."

"Why would you do that?" Marinette chokes out, gripping the remains of her dress.

"You deserve to know your place! You're not going to any ball, you hear me? End of!" she shouts and storms off, leaving her to clutch her scraps of fabric that used to be he masterpiece.

Marinette bites her lip so hard she can taste blood, and she scrambles to her room for comfort, even though she has the house to herself because the duke and Chloe just left.

She bursts into tears as soon as she climbs up the ladder, slamming the hatch behind her.

After about five minutes, she's steadied her breathing and has wiped her tears away. She looks around, praying for something she could use as a dress, or jewllery.

The only thing she can find is a box on her desk, which she assumes Chloe left in there if she came to ... well, who could guess why Chloe did anything, really?

She opens it up slowly and carefully, but shrieks and leaps away when a glowing ball of light exits the box.

And then, a woman is stood in her room. The lady is slim and pretty, with fiery red hair and big blue eyes. "Hello, Marinette."

Feeling very vulnerable, Marinette stares back, eyes wide. "That's my name."

"I know," she replies calmly. "My name is Tikki. I'm a kwami, which is something a but like a fairy godmother or father. I will grant you protection and freedom."

The blunette looks on suspiciously. "And how, exactly, will you do that?"

Tikki holds out her hand, fingers outstretched, and Marinette notices a pair of earrings on her palm. "This is my, and yours too, if you accept, Miraculous. If you choose to wear it, it will transform you."

The story sounded familiar to Marinette. "Wait, is this what happened to Chat Noir?"

Tikki tilted her head. "It seems Plagg has chosen. Yes, Marinette, this is most likely what happened to Chat Noir."

Marinette nods, and takes the earrings. She pushes them into her earlobes, thanking her parents for doing it for her when she had her first festival.

"You want to go to the ball, yes?" Tikki inquires, eyes sparkling.

"Yes?" she replies, very unsure about the whole ordeal.

"Then all you have to say, is 'Tikki, I wish to go to the ball'," she announces, smiling.

"I wish to go to the ball?" she repeats, and then regrets it. All around her, everything is blindingly bright, and she's even more taken aback when her clothes start changing.

And then, the light fades and her original dress is replaced with a ball gown. It's gorgeous. The bodice is a black sleeveless halterneck, joining with a skirt that is a beautiful deep red satin. In the mirror, she sees a red mask with five black spots, that fits her face perfectly.

Her hair is done exquisitely, in a thick bun with two gleaming strands of something that seemed like really thin diamond, drooping down and were hinting antennae. From her mask, she could tell that her costume was ladybug-themed, and also Tikki's skirt aas polka dotted.

She gapes at Tikki. "This is ... so much. Thank you!"

"This is the ladybug miraculous in use. Every miraculous has two uses. There is wish-form and another form that we don need to get into as of now," Tikki explains, but she left more questions than answers. She wasn't going to say what the other use was, so Marinette didn't push it.

"Okay ... "

"There is one catch, though. You must be back before midnight, because that is when this use wears off. Your earrings will beep every minute from five to, so that you're aware of when to leave," Tikki says carefully, accentuating every word to make sure it sticks.

"Got it."

"And I will explain the other use when the time comes. For now, have fun!" Tikki exclaims and with a flick of her wrist, Marinette is sent outside the house and is faced with a carriage with Rusty at the reins.

She clambers into the seat at the front when she's interrupted.

"Hello, Marinette," says a dark skinned lady with raven hair. Her eyes, however, are a startling green and they remind her of Chat almost immediately. "I'm Mimi."

"Um. Sorry, come again?" Marinette says, eyes darting for the best escape route.

"The lady, Tikki, transformed me. I'm here to make sure all goes according to plan," says the supposed Mimi.

So much had happened that night, Marinette goes along with it. "Alright. To the ball, if you will."

Mimi smiles, and tugs the reins, so on Rusty trots.

 **-oOo-**

When they arrive outside the palace, Mimi nods at her. "I'll wait out here. Be back before midnight, Ladybug."

For a moment, Marinette is confused as to why she's being called Ladybug but then she remembers the whole freedom and protection thing. If they know who she is, there's no point.

Ladybug nods back.

She approaches the door, and exhales as she enters.

She immediately retreats to the food table, oblivious to all the eyes upon her.

After about five minutes, she's already respectfully declined two offers to dance, claiming she's waiting for someone.

Sighing, she turns around, looking for someone she knows, when she stumbles straight into a hard chest.

Slowly, she looks up, and can't believe her luck.

She finds herself staring right into the eyes of Adrien Agreste.

 **xxx**

 **And there you have it! Thank you SO much to whoever made it to the end, I really appreciate it!**

 **So, 16k words, and your first chapter of Life is a Masquerade. So, I have no idea how long this story is going to take but I do know that you haven't seen the last of Kyle and Liz, and the next chapters will be shorter. Probably by a lot. And they might not be very frequent but I like writing this, so they will come.**

 **Thank you so much for reading! xx**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 **Thank you so much to those of you who followed, or favourited, or both. It meant a lot to me.** **Also, I appreciated the reviews, they made my day.**

 **So anyway, here goes Chapter Two!**

 **xxx**

"Hello, miss, can I help you with anything?" Adrien asks, looking down at the girl who has bumped into him.

She stares up at him, and he's instantly taken by those deep bluebell eyes and midnight black hair. "Um, I'm so sorry, Your Highness."

He smiles at her. "Don't be. Do you fancy a dance?" He wants her to say yes.

His mind protests against the physical signs of a crush. What about Marinette? it demands. Marinette's sweet and funny and always gets his humour, but she's much too perfect for him to even try. She's a maid, and yet, everyone loves her (besides Chloe, but she likes no one and no one likes her).

He might as well give the polka-dotted girl a shot.

"Uh, I'm not much of a dancer, but sure," she shrugs and takes his outstretched hand.

He spins her around and then sways back and forth to the music, holding one of her hands, and gripping her waist.

"So, what's your name?" he asks lightly, twirling her again.

"Ladybug, call me Ladybug," she tells him after a split second's hesitation.

He nods. "I'm Adrien."

She laughs. "I know."

Slow dance music comes on, and he readjusts himself and puts both his hands on her waist. She slings her hands over his shoulders and after a minute, nestles into his chest.

His mind is screeching but he's pretty sure he managed to play it off.

If Chloe sees him drooling over another girl, she'd kill the girl and him.

If his father sees him drooling over another girl, he'd be in for it.

And if _Plagg_ sees him drooling over another girl, he'd be done for.

Adrien looks around and notices that, as he'd assumed earlier, that Plagg is indeed at the food table, eating so many different types of cheeses it was a wonder people were coming in a metre radius of him.

Adrien rolls his eyes at Plagg, who makes a kissy face at him and Ladybug.

"So, uh, you enjoying the ball so far?" he asks quickly.

She tilts her head up to reply. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"I suppose," he shrugs.

She searches his eyes. "Why, what is it?"

He pulls a face. "I don't know, my father's being kind of pushy," he mumbles, words rolling off his tongue even though he knows he isn't supposed to hint to anyone that his perfect life is any less perfect than his dad demands it to be.

"I'm sorry, I can go if you like," she replies softly. "Sounds like you need a minute alone. You could talk to him?"

Oh, he can just hear Plagg laughing at him.

"No, no! I chose to dance with you, didn't I?" he says as quick as he can. "Don't go."

She smiles warmly at him. "Okay."

He grins back and sways back and forth, and yet he finds himself subconsciously scanning the crowds for Marinette.

"Hi," Ladybug says softly, tearing his attention back to her. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I am." He shakes his head and focuses on the girl in front of him. "So, you know anyone here?"

She looks around quickly. "Yeah. They won't recognize me though."

He follows along where she's looking. "They don't?" He sees that she's looking at a girl with dark skin and reddish hair, in a green dress. The skirt looks a bit like a flower, he thinks and then smiles when he thinks about how into that dress Marinette would be.

He grimaces. "What I'd give to have people _not_ recognize me."

Of course, he's Chat Noir, but nobody knows that except for Plagg, and nobody knows Chat Noir as more than the weirdo who's probably in trouble with the law. No one but Marinette.

Ladybug narrows her eyes. "Hmm. Well, _I_ recognized you, so that's a plus?"

He doesn't think that's fair. It's not like she sought him out, so it would've been fine even if he wasn't recognisable.

That was the thing about Marinette.

She seemed to like Chat Noir more than she did when she met Adrien, which assured him because she didn't seem to _dislike_ Adrien, but she wasn't that taken to him, and she got along with Chat Noir and seeing as he _enjoyed_ being Chat Noir, that was a good thing.

"I like to think my personality would shine through," he half-jokes, then curses himself when he realised that he'd said something similar to Mari as Chat Noir. He couldn't have anything in common with Chat. It was too risky.

She blinks, and stays silent for a bit, seemingly lost in thought.

"What?" he asks, searching her face. "What is it?"

"A friend said something similar to me once," she shrugs. "That's all. And I guess you're right."

He hums. "So, what are you into?"

"Oh, um, I enjoy art," she says and flushes a little.

He thinks it's cute. "That's cool. I can't draw to save my life."

She laughs. "Oh. So, what do you do?"

Apart from running around Paris as a leather-clad cat man? "Well, I play the piano. I like music," he informs her and then twirls her around.

"That's nice," she says and smiles.

He hears a noise and looks up, noticing Plagg waving at him.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, but I'll be right back," Adrien mutters and makes his way over to Plagg.

"Kid, kid, kid," Plagg sighs, shaking his head.

"What?" Adrien asks defensively.

"Nothing, you're just really awkward," Plagg shrugs. "Ask her to sit outside with you, or something."

"But then I would be even more awkward!" he protests.

"Oh, yeah," he says. "Well, it's ten minutes to midnight, and by then, people will start leaving. You may want to make a move, soon."

Adrien scowls. "So, what am I supposed to do?"

" _What I just said!_ " he exclaims, rolling his eyes.

"Jeez, alright," he crinkles his nose and abruptly leaves, heading back to Ladybug.

"Hey," her mouth curves into a smile, and his breath catches in his throat.

"Hello," he replies, "I was wondering, did you want to sit outside with me for a bit?" He gets the words out as quick as he can before he chokes up. He doesn't understand why he's so nervous around her, he's never like this with Marinette, he's comfortable with Marinette.

She shrugs. "Sure, but I have to go soon."

He nods, partially grateful for Plagg's advice. He wraps an arm around her waist, guiding her towards the gardens, smiling to himself. he doesn't know her, and she could be an enemy of the royals who was trying to murder him (it had happened before), but there were people outside and he had no doubt that Plagg would be keeping an eye. It was funny, for all Plagg's nonchalance and couldn't-care-less attitude, he cared, at least a little.

Adrien gently plucks a rose from a bush next to him, and passes it to her, flashing a toothy smile. "For you?"

She giggles and tucks a strand of black hair behind an ear. He notices polka-dotted earrings. "Thanks."

He's still examining her earrings, for whatever reason. It's easier than looking her in the eye. And then, they flash, making a small beeping noise. Five spots turn to four. Her hand flies to her ears, and she glances back at him, wide-eyed.

"Adrien," she whispers, voice catching a little. He loves how she says his name. "I need to go."

He blinks and instinctively takes her hand. "No, you don't. You haven't even told me who you are! Where can I find you? Will I ever see you again?"

She shakes her head. "I can't, Adrien, I can't. I'm already in enough trouble as it is."

He pouts. "Come on, at least give me something I can hold on to."

She pulls her hand out of his. He glances at her earrings. Two spots. "Maybe I'll see you around," she grins, and before he can reply, she holds onto her skirt and takes off running back to where all the carriages are. He stands up to run after her, and he spots Plagg casually ambling over to the carriages. She steps into an elegant, ruby red carriage with black wheels, says a few words to the driver, and the carriage starts moving.

He has no hope. "LADYBUG!" he shouts.

She looks over and raises her gloved hand to give him a wave back. The last thing of her that he sees are her wide, bluebell eyes.

 **xxx**

Adrien collapses in his room after a few words with his father, polite, awkward words, neither father nor son has practice in speaking to the other. Adrien loves his father, but the king is a cold, closed man, even to his son. Sometimes, _especially_ to his son.

His eyes are tired, and he only notices just how heavy his body is when he hits the pillow. He glances over at Plagg, who's taken a seat on the sofa, opposite him.

"Get some rest," the kwami tells him, and with a snap of his long fingers, is gone.

Adrien does exactly that.

He wakes up the next morning, and the sun is only just creeping through the clouds. It's early. Adrien has issues sleeping and has done since his mother disappeared. He sometimes has trouble getting to sleep but the trouble is usually staying asleep.

"Plagg?" he whispers, sitting up. "Plagg?"

Plagg materializes right next to him and Adrien jolts.

"You should visit Marinette," Plagg tells Adrien, picking his nails idly.

Adrien was thinking that anyway. He's done this so many times, he knows what to do. "Plagg, I want to visit Marinette."

In a flash of green light, Adrien looks down and stares at his clawed fingers. He's Chat Noir, now. It's easy for him to spring off the bed and through the window. It's so easy, Chat thinks it's a little pointless that all he can do with these powers and strength is visit Marinette. He loves seeing Marinette, but he thinks it's a bit selfish. He can leap over rooftops, fight people, run fast, and do more things than he ever would've normally. He thinks he should be fighting crime or something.

He arrives at Marinette's in minutes.

However, as he swings from a post and launches himself onto the roof, he notices a human figure stood by the door. His immediate reaction is _danger,_ and he silently leaps down behind the figure. He identifies the figure as a male, probably about his age.

"Ahem," he clears his throat casually, and when the boy turns around, Chat holds his staff out, so that it brushes his neck. "What are you doing here?" he asks calmly but eerily so, lowering his chin so that his hair falls in front of his eyes, and the green is still visible. After so many photoshoots, he's learned to pose and he thinks it's a life skill.

"I - I'm here for the girl, the dark-haired one looked kinda blue, she was with you," the other boy stutters and Chat can only really see a halo of short black curls and a freckly face.

What do you want with her?" he hisses, pushing his baton a little more into his throat.

"She said I could contact her if Liz wasn't at the ball," the boy pleads, eyes darting side to side. "You _were_ at the festival with her, right?"

Chat blinks, trying to recall the freckly face he sees now. "Who are you?"

"I kissed Liz after Jagged Stone's concert," the boy replies. "And Liz is fine. Marinette said Liz would probably surprise me for the ball, she did just that and I said I'd let her know." **(A.N. There was supposed to be another plotline with this, and then I gave up so wHoOpS.)**

Chat nods. "I'll make sure she gets it, you can go now."

The boy whose name Chat is unaware of scampers away and Chat quickly extends his baton, shooting into the air.

He taps on the window twice, watching as Marinette's head pops up and she looks around, sleepy eyes scanning her surroundings until they fall on the window.

Her lips form his name, and then she remembers she has to open the window. She gets up and opens the window without killing him.

"Hey," she greets him with a wide, cute smile. "What are you doing back here?"

"Oh, I saw someone outside, he said Liz was at the ball or something," he shrugged nonchalantly.

"She was? Oh, that's good."

He flopped onto her bed. "Wonderful."

She rolled her eyes but sat next to him, her hair loose and falling around her face in thick waves. He fought off the urge to touch it.

"So, I didn't see you at the ball," he tells her, saying it casually but wondering why.

She tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. "I didn't see you either." She isn't looking at him and he wants to know why.

"Marinette?" he asks, looking down at her lowered head. "You okay?"

She glances up at him with her huge blue eyes. "I didn't go. They didn't let me."

He frowns. "That's so dumb. You should've gone anyway."

She grimaces and opens her mouth to speak before closing it. "Yeah, but I wouldn't have seen you there, so what would be the point?" She beams charmingly at him and he vaguely registers his insides melting before he speaks.

"Are you joking? Everyone there would be lucky to have you in the same room as them," he grins back at her, winking, and she smacks his shoulder.

"So, meet anyone there? A lovely lady who you swept off her feet? Future romance? Someone that might get you off of my back?" she smirks at him, nudging his shoulder with hers.

He opens his mouth to tell her all about Ladybug, the black-haired beauty, but he falters. Why should he go on about a girl that he'd known for an hour, tops, when there's a smart, sweet, cute, funny girl perched right next to him? He _knows_ Marinette. No, she didn't show up to a masquerade in a fabulous red dress. She didn't have a mysterious name and she hadn't withheld almost everything about herself.

But she's perfect. And she doesn't need him rambling about his new crush, because she wouldn't be interested and he didn't feel the need to talk about Ladybug when he was already happy anyway.

"No-one lovelier than you, princess," he purrs and promptly falls back so that his head rests on her lap.

"Ugh, you're such a sap," she complains but begins combing through his hair with her fingers anyway.

"Nah, you love it."

"Yeah, I do."

* * *

Chat had left Marinette's soon after.

Now, Adrien sits up in bed and his first thought is if he'd ever see the Ladybug girl again. Then, he opens up the curtains, gets changed, and makes his way down three flights of stairs just to get to the kitchen.

Plagg has propped himself up against the counter, and he's eating his stinky cheese.

Adrien rolls his eyes."Plagg, I swear you're addicted."

The lean, olive-skinned man looks up. "Swearing's not nice." Then he gives full attention to his cheese.

Finding a croissant, Adrien says, "so what's that other use of my miraculous?"

Plagg shakes his head. "You're never going to need it."

"You don't know that."

"Believe me, kid, I do. Paris is a good city," Plagg muses, stroking his goatee. Adrien idly thinks that Plagg would make the ideal villain in a cartoon, with his dark suit, pointed features, and evil-looking goatee.

Adrien shrugs. "Fine, but if you don't mind, I'd like to take a stroll as Chat, please."

Plagg sends a half-hearted smile in his direction. "Sure."

About two minutes later, Chat hops out of the kitchen window. He wonders why he's a whole lot more nimble, strong and physically able as Chat. Maybe it has something to do with the other use. Probably. What job would he have to be very physically able in? He has no clue, so he just heads into town before all the stalls close.

He decides to go to the stall that Marinette won a fluffy cat from, and see if he can get something like that because he's only just realized, but he _needs_ one in his life. Obviously.

When he gets there, the guy monitoring it asks, "where's your girlfriend?"

"Oh, not sure - wait, she's not my girlfriend," he flushes pink uncomfortably and scratches his the back of his neck.

The man laughs. "Okay. Well, I saw her around, I think. With some blue-haired guy."

Chat's brows drew together. "Erm, cool."

"By the way, I'm rooting for you," then the man winks and Chat smiles unsurely and leaves. Was Marinette seeing someone? He hopes not, even though he doesn't even like her like that.

Just as he rounds around a corner, he spots Marinette with the 'blue-haired boy'. He recognises the boy as Luka, the son of an aristocrat family. He and Marinette are laughing, holding cotton candy. He bets that Luka doesn't think it's drugged.

Chat bites his tongue. The lucky bastard. _Luka_ doesn't have to go around in a costume that he could only wear if he wished to his fairy god-Plagg, doesn't have to pick a girl to marry under pressure, doesn't have to hide away in his castle for most of his life because he could be kidnapped at almost any time.

Marinette turns around before Chat turns away. Their eyes meet for a second and her mouth opens, but then he's gone, vanishing over the rooftops.

He perches on top of a roof, tired eyes scanning the horizon. He hadn't noticed before, but he was really tired. "Claws off," he sighs and watches as Plagg swirls out of the ring, a black smudge against the blue sky.

For a moment, there was silence, as Adrien and Plagg sit side by side.

"Plagg, did you ever love someone?" Adrien whispers, voice breaking on the word love.

Plagg's eyes flick towards him before they returned to straight ahead. "What's brought this on, huh?"

"Nothing. I mean, the lady ... ladybug girl, and - "

"Marinette," Plagg finishes.

Adrien glances towards him. "So?"

"So what?" he asks, eyebrows raised.

"I don't know! That's why I asked! Did you?"

The kwami hesitates. "Yeah, once."

"And?"

"I've known her all my life. When I'm around, she's always there to balance me out, we're two halves of the same whole. The problem is, when I'm not in use, I can't see her anymore, and I haven't seen her in a while," Plagg tells him.

"Oh," Adrien sighs. "Yours is worse."

"I know. But it gets better. I'll see Tikki again. You'll work it out."

"Thanks, but it's hard enough as it is. I should just marry Chloe. Or, the Italian girl my father seems to like. You remember, the one from the dinner party?"

"Sure. She seemed a bit dodgy though."

"Dodgy how?"

"I mean, her story changed every time she told it. She seemed a bit of a liar, is all."

Adrien hums. "I suppose so. Oh well."

Plagg just stares out at the skyline, his angular face slack.

"Plagg?" he asked hesitantly.

The kwami turns his head, eyes narrowed.

"What's the other use?"

"What do you think, kid?"

He ponders this. "Well, I'm more physically able as Chat, and I would only need the other use if Paris was a bad place, so maybe some ninja policeman?"

Plagg chuckles. "I suppose. Your job is to defend the city. From anything that might put it in danger."

"But ... Paris is safe, right?"

"Which is why I said you wouldn't need it."

"Then why are you here?"

"You needed me. Fairly obvious. And there was a girl, who needed Tikki. Therefore, if both of us were needed, we were allowed to go."

"How come it's only if both of you are needed?"

"We balance each other out. I'm destruction, she's creation. I'm bad luck, she's good luck."

"Are you telling me that I got stuck with the bad luck kwami?"

Plagg laughs. "You're telling me that you didn't need to learn a bit of rule-breaking, and you didn't need to calm yourself once in a while?"

"What, so, Tikki spends her time training her people for the army?"

"No! She's just all about following rules and the greater good, and sweet and kind. I'm more about ... breaking free. I don't know."

"I guess that does make sense."

Plagg smirks. "See, we tend to think things through, Adrien. I'm not just a dumb, cheese-loving idiot."

He scoffs. "I don't think that about you! Cheese-loving, yes, but you aren't an idiot."

"I dunno, I've made some stupid mistakes."

"What, like every other living thing, ever?"

Plagg shrugs and looks heavenward. "It's different than that, kid. It's worse than your mistakes, not speaking enough at a dinner party, saying too much. Falling in love, but not sure who you're in love with, letting the Rossi girl chat you up so everyone thinks you're a thing. It's worse."

Adrien is quiet for a while. "How bad?"

"Kid, I _am_ bad luck. Imagine how bad."

Uncomfortably, he pats Plagg's shoulder. "Sorry. Let's go back and get you some cheese."

He smiles back, almost kindly.

"Plagg, I want to go home," he whispers, and in a flash of green light, they're both gone, and all that's left is a black blur leaping over the rooftops.

Adrien detransforms outside behind a bush, and then enters the palace through the garden, nodding in greeting at the guard, and then making his way to the kitchen. The chefs were working, so he wordlessly took a wheel of camembert and left.

"Plagg?" he calls as he enters his room.

Plagg appears and smiles, taking the cheese.

"So, how can I find Ladybug again?"

His jaw tightened a little. "I don't think you do. Sorry, Adrien. You might, but she won't recognise you unless you're Adrien and you won't recognise her unless she's Ladybug."

Adrien lifted his eyebrow. "I'd recognize her."

Plagg's mouth twitched. "Sure."

A knock sounds at his door, and his eyes fly open, wide with panic. But when he looks to Plagg, he's already gone.

"Come in," he calls.

His father is stood in the doorway, rigid, and eyes cold. That was just how he was. Nothing new. "Hello, Adrien."

"Father."

"I would like to talk to you about choosing a wife. Have you decided yet?"

"No, Father. I will, I promise."

"I know. You have two weeks. There's a girl I'd like you to meet, she fences, like you."

"Two weeks?" Adrien repeats incredulously.

"Yes."

"Father, I don't know if I can choose in a matter of two weeks."

"You will have to," he says and then checks his watch. "I have to go. Goodbye." His tone is finalising. Adrien hates it when he does that.

 **xxx**

 **wow, look who spent months on this mess! I didn't realise how long this took me. So I'm kind of mad at myself because I basically messed this whole thing up but I was thinking about doing some random one shots because I have no idea where this is going.** **I'm really sorry it took so long :((**


End file.
